


a nuclear bomb on the bottom of the ocean

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Series: Commas [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Freeform, Gen, Past Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there is him and you and an extra left behind father and a handful of mismatched brothers and that will have to be enough because you</p><p>still</p><p>don't </p><p>believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a nuclear bomb on the bottom of the ocean

**i.**

it's been one week nine hours and six minutes and you still don't believe that it's over.

you listened to your sensei father and your rival brother die and neither of them will linger in your head the way his brother does now and you're glad of it. you don't know how he can stand laughter and screams and scars when you can't even stand to hear their names as they're added to the memorial in the last free port. you had three other brothers who matched liked a perfect constellation and an aunt and uncle who were the warmth at the heart of winter but now

at the edge of our hope

at the end of our time

there is him and you and an extra left behind father and a handful of mismatched brothers and that will have to be enough because you

still

don't 

believe.

**ii.**

it's three o'clock in the morning pacific standard and you wake up screaming and reaching for a sword you never wore on your hip but about which you dreamed as a little girl.

he's next door and he knocks on the wall to remind you that you're not alone as your breathing jumps and skips and plays counterpoint to the staccato of your heartbeat. you want to force both smooth

legato

like folded steel

but it's impossible when you see sad eyes and taste copper on the tip of your tongue. you vomit in the tiny cubicle barely space to stand en suite and brush your teeth and then you knock on his door. if he was anyone else

less important

less yours

then you'd want sex to make you forget losing your virginity to the only other teenager you knew well enough to trust but instead you top and tail in his vast hotel bed and try not to think.

**iii.**

camera flashes start to remind you of a nuclear bomb on the bottom of the ocean and you can't stand the people who act like you're a celebrity instead of a warrior.

your first father raised you as a son and your second one raised you as a soldier so you don't know how to react to people who want you to be a painted doll pull a string to hear you recite five pre recorded phrases. you handle it until the day you open a magazine and there are pictures of his

soft old eyes

kind tired smile

burn scars all painted away and you dread to turn the page because you know. and true enough your scars are gone as if you never earned them in battle

listen to father

listen to brother

very nearly listen to him

and then you believe it's over because this is the kind of thing that you read about in history books that happened in the world before the one you know.


End file.
